"You were there, sire, and heard all—all?" stammered she, pointing with her hand.
"Yes—God be praised, I was there, and I am now acquainted with the motives which prompted your flight from Count Esterhazy. I undertake your defence, countess; my voice shall silence your accusers in Vienna, and if it becomes necessary to your justification, I will relate what I have overheard. I cannot blame you, for I know the unspeakable misery of a marriage without love, and I comprehend that, to break its fetters, you were ready to brave disgrace, and to wear upon your spotless brow the badge of dishonor The empress must know what you have undergone, and she shall reinstate you in the world's estimation; for she it is who has caused your unhappiness. My mother is too magnanimous to refuse reparation where she has erred."
"Sire," whispered the countess, while a deep blush overspread her face, "do you mean to confide all—all to the empress?"
"All that concerns your relations with your husband and with Count Schulenberg. Pardon me that I overheard the sweet confession which was wrung from you by despair! Never will I betray it to living mortal; it shall be treasured in the depths of my heart, and sometimes at midnight hour I may be permitted to remember it. I—Come back to Vienna, countess, and let us seek to console each other for the agony of the past!"
"No, sire," said she mournfully, "I shall never return to Vienna; I should be ashamed to meet your majesty's eye."
"Have you grown so faint-hearted?" said the emperor, gently. "Are you suddenly ashamed of a feeling which you so nobly avowed but a few moments since? Or am I the only man on earth who is unworthy to know it?"
"Sire, the judgment of the world is nothing to me; it is from your contempt that I would fly and be forgotten. Let other men judge me as they will—I care not. But oh! I know that you despise me, and that knowledge is breaking my heart. Farewell, then, forever!"
The emperor contemplated her with mournful sympathy, and took both her hands in his. She pressed them to her lips, and when she raised her head, her timidity had given place to strong resolution.
"I shall never see your majesty again," said she, "but your image will be with me wherever I go. I hope for great deeds from you, and I know that you will not deceive me, sire. When all Europe resounds with your fame, then shall I be happy, for my being is merged in yours. At this moment, when we part to meet no more, I say again with joyful courage, I love you: May the blessing of that love rest upon your noble head! Give me your hand once more, and then leave me."
"Farewell, Margaret," faltered the emperor, intoxicated by her tender avowal, and opening his arms, be added in passionate tones,